


Home for the Weekend

by ebi_pers



Series: Home Away From Home [1]
Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Adorable Clawen, Brother Feels, Clawen, F/M, Family Fluff, Number One Auntie Claire, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebi_pers/pseuds/ebi_pers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'"Twenty minutes to home, boys," Owen called over his shoulder. Zach and Gray grinned at each other. Twenty minutes to home.' Claire and Owen decide to take the boys on a weekend getaway to take their minds off their parents' divorce. Family fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twenty Minutes to Home

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt! So excited to continue writing for Jurassic World and I hope you guys are enjoying them as much as I enjoy working on them. This one is also from a Tumblr user on the Jurassic World Prompt page and it’s something I was already toying around with before I saw the prompt. BONUS! This is a multichapter! It won’t be too long but I wanted to break this up over multiple chapters anyway! I really do think that after Isla Nublar, Zach and Gray would cling more to Claire and Owen than their own parents, especially given the inevitable divorce. And I firmly believe that it would eventually approach the point (if it hasn’t already) where the boys would start to see Claire and Owen as sort of surrogate parents. So in any event, here’s the newest piece! 
> 
> This was also a Tumblr Prompt from Jurassic World Prompts: Owen and Claire can see how badly the divorce is affecting the boys. Zach's lashing out, Gray's very quiet and withdrawn, and Karen and Scott are too busy to notice. It doesn't help that the boys are still recovering from Jurassic World. So Claire and Owen decide to take the boys out for a weekend of nothing but fun and family to cheer them up.

Karen sighed wearily as she stepped through the door of the family house that would soon only be home to three people. And even then, every other weekend she would be alone. Alone in the two-story, four bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house that she had always dreamed of owning. Boxes were strewn across every room, labeled SCOTT in thick black permanent marker, his entire life wrapped tightly in bubble wrap and stuffed inside. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by the February sun filtering in through the windows, deceptively bright for how frigid it was outside. It felt empty. Shelves that used to be crowded with the trophies and football memorabilia she despised looked worse unadorned. The desk in the family room was cleared, outlines in the dust the only evidence that there had ever been office supplies there, books, a computer. The kitchen cabinets hung open, mugs and plates and shot glasses wrapped in newspaper and sitting on the countertops waiting to be packaged up and taken to the townhouse Scott had secured twenty minutes from the house she would be keeping.

Gray sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, legs swinging absent-mindedly as he read from his science textbook, having carved out a space in all the to-be-packed items to set it down. His head was down, mind clearly someplace else. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about Isla Nublar. About Jurassic World. She knew he still had nightmares, still screamed at night and kicked and thrashed and cried. But he wouldn’t accept help from her or from his father. Only Zach was allowed to cross the threshold into his room, the dinosaur merchandise cleared out at her behest. Only Zach was allowed to sit at the end of his bed, stroke his hair, whisper reassurances until he drifted off again. Only Zach was allowed to comfort him, to hug him, to soothe him. Only Zach was allowed to trespass into that space, that role. Only Zach shared that with him. And try as hard as she might, Karen Mitchell would never be able to have that with her baby boy. Scott didn’t even try after the first night or two.

Gray caught his mother staring at him, gave a wan half-smile and flipped the page in his textbook, returned to staring down at it, chewing on his lower lip in thought. It was times like this she wished he still trusted her enough to tell her things. Her therapist had warned her that the boys might be a little cold around her for a while after the divorce proceedings ended but no amount of verbal preparation could have readied her for the rift that had opened between her and her sons.

Gray was distant but he wasn’t totally unwilling to reciprocate her affection when she offered it. Zach on the other hand was much colder toward her, brushed her off when she tried to give him a hug, a word of encouragement. And when he wasn’t ignoring her and his father, he was openly hostile toward them. He blamed them. For the divorce, for the horrors they saw at Jurassic World, for the trauma and the PTSD and the nightmares that he and Gray both suffered from. And on some level, she supposed that it was only fair. But she still longed for the days when her sons would at least tell her what happened that day, what was going on in their minds.

The car door shutting in the driveway told her that Zach was home. The slate colored Nissan Versa had been another feeble attempt to smooth over the rift that had developed in their relationship as parents and son, purchased immediately after he passed his driver’s test as a late Christmas present. Just like the new phone. And the TV. And even though she knew full well that she couldn’t buy her son’s love, that it was unethical of her to even try, she didn’t know what else to do. She was just tired of being shut out of his life.

What had happened to her oldest son? What had happened to the boy who loved music and basketball and who, despite his brooding exterior, could be so sweet and so gentle? When had his eyes gotten so haunted-looking? When had the bags under them gotten so dark? And when could she have him back the way he was?

“Hey, honey,” she greeted with forced warmth as he came through the door, backpack slung over one shoulder and an agitated expression on his face.

Zach dropped the backpack on the floor with a thump. “Hi,” he greeted coldly. Gray turned to look at him and the tenseness in the older brother’s expression seemed to melt away. His clenched fists relaxed, his shoulders dropped a little, his furrowed brow returned to its neutral position and Karen felt a mix of stinging rejection and total relief. If neither brother was willing to turn to their parents, at least they had each other. And that was what she kept telling herself every time she wanted to cry.

Gray slid off the barstool, book tucked under one arm and made for the stairs. Zach picked up his backpack and followed without another word to his mother.

* * *

 

The phone rang shortly after Scott got back from the storage unit he had been putting all his boxes in until he could officially move into his new house. He answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Scott,” the woman on the other end greeted in a clipped voice, like she was trying to be polite.

“Claire,” the man recognized the speaker.

“Is Karen there?” His soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law asked, tone still short and abrupt, utterly disinterested in exchanging small talk with him.

“One second,” he passed the phone to Karen. “Your sister,” he explained and then returned to packing his belongings.

“Hello,” the woman greeted, a sense of relief washing over her even before she heard Claire’s voice.

“Hey, Karen,” Claire returned cordially. “How is…well, you know.”

The older sister looked about the room, surveyed the half-packed state of the house. “It’s coming along. There’s still things to pack but it’s coming along. How are you and…”

“Good,” Claire answered a little awkwardly, sounding rushed. “We’re both good. We’ve been getting the house in order. You know, renovations and all. Hey, listen. I know you’ve got a lot going on at the house and with all the court stuff getting finalized… We just thought it might be a good idea to get Zach and Gray out of the house during all that. So we were wondering if you’d maybe like us to come pick them up for the weekend?”

Claire held her breath nervously, dreading the answer her sister might give. They had seen each other post Isla Nublar, seen the boys. Both she and Owen had been by the house. And her nephews had a habit of texting or calling her whenever things were getting heavy at home. She didn’t always know what to say but they somehow found comfort in telling her. In venting to her. But not since Jurassic World had her sister placed the boys in her care for any period of time. And as badly as she wanted to see them, to spend time with them, she wouldn’t have blamed her sister for saying no. They’d almost been killed last time after all. Karen’s silence stretched on a little too long.

“Owen and I just finished painting the upstairs,” she added quickly. “There’s plenty of space for them to come stay.” She began running through the checklist she had rehearsed to make the place and the idea seem as appealing as possible. Like a sales pitch. “They can each have their own rooms. And the woods are nice and quiet this time of year. There’s tons of snow on the ground. They can go skiing. There’s a place not too far from here. And the pond is totally frozen over so they can go ice skating. There’s lots to do…” She trailed off, hoping she had sold her sister on the idea.

“You know, that does sound nice,” Karen finally said. “I bet the boys would love it. I’ll ask them.”

Claire let out a sigh of relief and her sister could almost picture the grin on her face.

“I’ll call you back after I talk to them, Claire.”

Karen turned to her husband, whose back was turned to her. “Claire and Owen are going to take the boys for the weekend,” she said.

“You’re kidding, right?” the man turned to face her, disbelief etched in his features.

Karen frowned. “No. I’m not kidding. I think it would be a good idea to get them out of the house. A change of pace might be good for them.”

“Karen, you know what happened last time you put Claire in charge of them. Let’s face it. The woman can’t look after kids.”

“Those were extenuating circumstances, Scott. There aren’t any dinosaurs in Wisconsin and _please_ don’t do this here. Not now. Claire is perfectly capable of taking care of Zach and Gray and you know it. Claire and Owen are a big part of why they’re even still alive.”

“All I’m saying is if it isn’t dinosaurs then it could be bears. Or wolves. Or god only knows what else!” Scott shot back.

“You know what? Let’s just ask them what they’d like to do. I’m not having this argument with you, Scott and I’m not going to let you talk about my sister that way. Boys!” the mother called.

“I really don’t approve of this, Karen,” Scott grumbled, dropping a wrapped souvenir plate into the box.

The blonde woman shook her head in exasperation.

“What?” Zach asked moodily as he leaned slack against the wall, fixing his eyes resentfully on his parents. He heard the shouting even from his room with the door shut and was fully prepared to go off on them if they expected him to referee another one of their fights. It amazed him that even two days away from their divorce finalization, they still couldn’t pretend to be civil. Gray stood beside him, wide-eyed.

Karen forced a smile as she regarded her two sons. “How would you boys like to go spend the weekend with Aunt Claire and Owen?” she asked, her voice filled with insincere excitement that made it sound like she was speaking to a first grader.

Gray didn’t have to force a smile. “Yes!” he agreed whole-heartedly, his enthusiasm forcing his older brother to crack a smile too.

He just as quickly hid it as he looked from his expectant mother to his unamused father, felt his blood starting to boil again as he regarded the man, wanted to punch that disinterested, slack-jawed look straight off his face. “Yeah. Yeah that sounds like a good idea,” he ground out, locking eyes defiantly with his dad.

“Perfect. It’s settled then,” Karen spoke the last three words deliberately to Scott. I’ll call Claire back right now to tell her the good news. You boys should go pack. Remember your toothbrushes.”

“Okay, Mom,” Gray led the way back up the stairs, Zach hot on his heels.

“They don’t want us in the house on the day they sign the papers,” Gray declared glumly as he pulled pants and sweatshirts and underwear and socks from his dresser drawers, piled the sets of clothes on his bed where Zach was sitting, staring at the fibers of the blue rug on the floor, socked feet dangling over the side of the mattress. “They want us to think it’s for fun but really they’re just worried we can’t handle it.”

“I know,” Zach answered in a similar monotone, still fixating on the carpet fibers. He lifted his gaze suddenly and focused his attention on his little brother. “But you know what? Screw them. They don’t want us around? Fine. We can still have fun, right? Aunt Claire and Owen’s house will be fun. More fun than sitting around here.”

Gray brightened. “Yeah! And Aunt Claire said there’s lots of stuff to do!” Zach returned his brother’s cheerful grin, his energy renewed as he became determined to ensure this weekend would be the best ever. To help Gray take his mind off the divorce, to help him clear his own head, and mostly to spite his parents for thinking they could just ship them off whenever times got tough. Though he couldn’t deny that he would rather be with his aunt and with Owen. Permanently.

* * *

 

Karen had never really paid attention to her sister’s appearance, the way she presented herself. But as she watched from the window, she couldn’t help but feel pangs of envy for Claire’s life, for how much _better_ it seemed. Things seemed to work out for her little sister in ways they never did for her. The silver Mercedes E-Class sedan was exactly the kind of car she would drive—sleek, elegant, but not flashy, exuding success without having to rub it in. The pale pink sweater and skinny black jeans and heeled boots suited her nicely, made her look well-dressed while maintaining a casual, almost effortless air. Her hair had grown out a bit since the incident at Isla Nublar, no longer styled in a jagged bob but instead falling around her high cheekbones in short waves, framing her face flatteringly. And Owen made a similarly good impression the few times she had met him, soft-spoken and gentlemanly but rugged and handsome, clad today in a blue button-down and crisp jeans and looking every bit as successful and content as his better half. And the way he looked at Claire, the way she smirked back at him made Karen feel equal parts jealousy and elation that her sister finally found someone who could appreciate her. Because even though it had only been two months, Owen and Claire were arguably much happier in their relationship than she had ever been in her own marriage.

She greeted the couple at the door. Claire hugged her quickly, offered her a wide smile of encouragement. Owen shook her hand, kissed her cheek politely, murmured how nice it was to see her again.

“Scott,” Claire greeted coolly. The heels of her boots clicked against the hardwood floors as she strode briskly past him without stopping, entering the living room, surveying the sealed boxes stacked in the corner with more than just a small amount of satisfaction that he would be gone soon.

“Claire.”

Owen gave the man a curt nod but didn’t say a word to him, following the red-head into the living room.

“The boys are still upstairs,” Karen said, shuffling past them and peering up the staircase. “Boys!” she called. “They’re here! Hope your bags are packed!”

Gray tumbled down the stairs, suitcase thumping down every step behind him and practically flew into his aunt’s arms, succeeding in knocking the woman back a few feet from the momentum.

“Hey, sweetie!” she greeted him, hugging him back just as tightly and letting herself savor the moment, a genuine smile and then a laugh bubbling to the surface, relaxing her features, erasing some of the hard-set lines that had recently formed on her face from too many long nights staring at a computer screen or court documents or a video chat of Masrani Global executives giving her instructions on what to say, how to say it. Gray embraced her a long moment before finally relaxing his grip to tackle Owen, who scooped the boy up in a massive bear hug.

Zach trailed down the stairs shortly after, duffle bag thrown over one shoulder. He was unable to keep the broad grin from his face as he spotted his aunt. She opened her arms wide for a hug before he had even reached the landing and he dropped all pretense, surging forward to accept the embrace she offered, leaning over and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Hey, Aunt Claire,” he greeted her.

“God is it me or did you get even taller?” she teased.

“It’s you. Your heels aren’t as high this time,” Owen taunted, resting one hand on Claire’s shoulder and clapping Zach on the back with the other, Gray still clinging to his side. The younger Mitchell hazarded a glance to his parents. His mother was blinking excessively to fight back tears and he couldn’t tell if it was out of delight in seeing them so genuinely happy or in pain that she wasn’t a part of the group hug unfolding before her. His dad looked peeved and Gray was nervous Zach would turn around and notice, knowing full well that the observation would be enough to ruin his big brother’s good mood by sending him into a fit of rage. But Zach didn’t even give their dad satisfaction of a good bye, bypassing him altogether to exchange an awkward, one-armed hug with his mom.

“Be careful,” she admonished. He nodded, forced a half-smile and didn’t even glance at their dad before joining Claire and Owen at the door.

Gray, feeling bad, forced himself to give his dad a hug once he had said goodbye to their mother, wrapping both arms around his father’s side. “Bye, Dad,” he tried to sound cheerful.

Scott ruffled his son’s hair and for a moment a genuine smile broke through. “Have fun, champ,” he said and Gray thought he could detect something sad in his voice.

“We’ll have them home Sunday evening,” Claire promised her sister. “And not too late either since it’s a school night,” she added, trying to sound as responsible as possible.

“Have fun,” Karen smiled wistfully at the four as she waved them out the door. “Call if you need anything,” she called after them. “And make sure the boys wear scarves and hats if they go outside!”

The storm door shut behind the four with a definitive _snap_ and Zach was immediately in a much better mood. A thin layer of February snow had fallen on the sidewalk and it crunched beneath their feet as they approached the car. Claire pushed the key fob to pop the trunk open.

“You can throw your bags in there,” she instructed. The boys complied, Zach chucking the duffel into one corner and Gray hoisting his hard-sided suitcase over the lip of the trunk, rotating it so that it fit snugly in the other corner.

The car still smelled new. Like fresh-stitched leather. The glovebox still had its Warning! Advanced Air Bags! Tag hanging from it. It was like everything else in Claire and Owen’s post-Isla Nublar life. Shiny. New. In some ways totally unfamiliar. Claire clambered into the driver’s seat, clicked her seatbelt into place and pushed the round start button on the car’s dashboard. The Mercedes purred to life, the gauges glowing and bouncing whimsically as they calibrated themselves and the GPS screen booting up to display a map view of their current location. Owen sat beside her and turned in his seat to face the boys in the back.

“Buckle up, boys,” he grinned.  

Zach and Gray had never been to Aunt Claire and Owen’s new house, but they had heard a lot of things from their mom and from phone conversations. It was a thirty minute drive from their house—their mom’s house—and set deep in a wooded area of Dane County just outside Madison.

“You can’t even see the closest neighbor’s house with all the trees,” Owen declared proudly. “Not a soul to bother you.”

The car’s Bluetooth system chirped shrilly, a noise somewhere between an alarm clock and a ringing telephone. The name NEELA MALAKAR appeared on the screen where the GPS had previously been displaying their route. Claire sighed in exasperation. Owen frowned. Zach and Gray exchanged worried glances.

Claire tapped the button on the steering wheel to answer the call. “Neela, this is a really bad time,” she half-shouted in the general direction of the speakerphone mic.

“I just need five minutes of your time,” a crisp, female voice responded. Her accent was faint, vaguely British but not quite.

“I’m driving!” the red-head almost whined. “You’re on speaker. Owen’s in the car. So are my nephews.”

“Two minutes then,” Neela persisted. “I won’t discuss anything confidential.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Go.”

“I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Claire, but as GC of Masrani Global it’s my job to coordinate all of the pending actions against us. Two multi-district litigations just opened in California and Texas and if my contacts are correct, there will be cases opening in Delaware, North Carolina, New York, and Arizona by the end of next week.”

The operations manager could sense this wasn’t going to go well but she asked anyway. “What do you need from me?”

“As it happens, I’m holding subpoenas for every document you’ve produced or been custodian of since you became Operations Manager at Jurassic World. Including any records you might have in your possession since your title changed to Executive Director of Corporate Operations.”

“I’ll ask someone to send those to you,” the woman sighed.

“I’m also holding subpoenas for you and Owen to have your depositions taken…” the attorney continued.

Claire put a hand to her temple, worked her thumb and forefinger in a circular pattern there. Owen turned to look at her, worry etched into his features.

“What’s a deposition?” Gray whispered.

“Shhh!” Zach nudged him, leaning forward in his seat as if being a few inches closer to the speaker might aid his comprehension.

“I’m not gonna have to travel am I?” their aunt asked wearily.

“No, no. If those bastards want your testimony they can come to you.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just—“

“Wait. Claire. It gets worse…”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Neela, I’m neck-deep in legal crap and between the court cases and the constant requests for comment from the press I’ve turned into a hero or a public punching bag depending on which way the wind’s blowing. How could this get _any_ worse?”

Masrani’s legal counsel fell silent for a moment, then said quietly, “I’m also holding subpoenas for your nephews. Zachary and Gray.”

“What?” Claire shrieked, inadvertently hitting the brakes so that Zach fell forward with a barely-stifled _oof_ , his seatbelt locking.

“Whoa, easy,” Owen soothed, hand subconsciously falling to Claire’s shoulder as she guided the car to the shoulder.

“No, no, no they can’t. They’re _kids_ , Neela! They’ve been through enough. There’s no way—“

“Before you work yourself up,” Neela soothed, “I’ve already filed a motion to quash the subpoena on the grounds that making the boys relive the experience would be detrimental to their mental wellbeing. But that’s really pushing the bounds of undue burden. I’ll do my best but you might want to prepare them. Just in case.”

Gray gasped. He didn’t fully understand the legal terminology that had just been recited over the speakerphone but from his aunt’s reaction and Zach’s alarmed look and Owen’s tense grimace he knew it couldn’t be good.

“Thanks,” Claire finally bit out. “It’s been six minutes.”

“We’ll talk on Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” There was a chime indicating the attorney had hung up.

“Not likely,” the red-head spat, putting the car back in gear.

“They want us to testify?” Zach questioned with disbelief as the car lurched forward and his aunt merged back onto the highway.

“It’ll be fine,” Claire tried to reassure her nephews. “Neela’s the in-house counsel for Masrani Global. She’s great. She’ll find a way to get you out of this. Anyway, we’re supposed to be having _fun_! So let’s forget about depositions and all that legal stuff.” There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence until Owen mercifully hit the radio and an upbeat pop song filled the car. Claire watched in the rearview mirror as the tension slowly fell from Zach and Gray’s faces and breathed a sigh of relief, shooting a grateful glance to Owen.

“Twenty minutes to home, boys,” Owen called over his shoulder to the two boys who were, as far as he was concerned, his nephews. The man’s eyes fell to the speedometer. “Maybe fifteen with the way you’re aunt’s driving. You feeling okay, Speedy Gonzalez?” he teased gently, though the smile on his face was a little too forced and his eyebrows a little too arched.

“Sorry,” Claire breathed, easing off the accelerator. “Just a little tense. That’s all. Twenty minutes.”

Zach and Gray grinned at each other. Twenty minutes to home. 


	2. What Home Should Feel Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Owen take the boys snowboarding on their first adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Back for chapter 2! Thanks to all the INCREDIBLE readers so far! This is only going to span about 3 chapters but I’ve definitely got more Jurassic World stuff in the works. And it’s definitely heavy on the Zach-Gray sibling dynamics because I love those! Hope you enjoy. This piece is meant to be fluffy and light-hearted and fun!

Home, as it turned out, was more spectacular than either Zach or Gray had imagined, no doubt funded by years of saved-up bonuses and unused paychecks from Masrani Global from a time when both homeowners had almost every living expense paid for by their employer. Claire had described the house to them once on the phone and they had seen the brochure photos online when their mom looked up the address out of curiosity. And Owen had said the place was like a little retreat in the woods. But the house was much, _much_ nicer than any verbal description or bland series of overexposed advertising shots.

The house looked like something out of a travel magazine—surrounded by woods and covered in soft whiteness. Bare trees jutted above the roof, partially sheltering the home from the snowfall that had accumulated much faster than it could melt. Evergreens surrounded the outer edges of the property, screening it from the neighbors, just as Owen had promised. A low stone wall flanked the entrance to the long, curving driveway, which was lined with loose pebbles that made a pleasant crunching noise under the tires as Claire turned down the trail and steered toward the detached, three-car garage behind the house.  From behind, the house was even more spectacular. A massive, two-tiered deck jutted out from the second story, sheltering a patio and glass slider underneath. The house was covered in cedar siding with massive floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor overlooking the private yard. Gray had never been to a ski lodge, but he was pretty sure the house looked exactly like one.

“Welcome home,” Owen declared proudly as Claire shut the car off in the garage. Gray tumbled eagerly out of the backseat and raced outside to take in the property, his boots crunching in the partially-frozen snow. A look of amazement spread over his features as he looked straight up into the bare treetops, miniature avalanches cascading off of them every so often and falling to the ground with muffled thumps.

Zach came up behind his brother, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was equally as stunned. The place was dead silent, the gentle whistling of the wind through naked tree limbs the only sound for miles. The house they had passed on the way in was completely hidden from view. Twinkling, white Christmas lights were still strung around the boughs of some of the pine trees. The teenager shut his eyes for a moment, drank in the calmness that had eluded him since…well, since that day on Isla Nublar. Between the media frenzy, the panic attacks, the constant yelling, the divorce proceedings, he had forgotten the simple joy of not hearing _anything_.

Claire slipped her hands into the pockets of her pea coat as she stepped up behind her nephews, a giggle of delight escaping her lips as she took in their reactions. She rested a gentle hand on each of their shoulders.

Gray wheeled around. “This place is awesome!” he declared, words forming a cloud of breath in the air.

Owen joined them, Gray’s suitcase in one hand. “Nice, isn’t it?” he grinned proudly. “So peaceful I almost don’t mind the cold.”

Claire smacked his arm playfully but turned a careful eye to the boys, double checking that the allusion to Isla Nublar hadn’t affected them negatively. Neither Zach nor Gray seemed to have noticed and she reminded herself yet again that not everyone was as sensitive as she was.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” she urged, jerking her head in the direction of the house and placing the keys in Zach’s hand. “Go on up!” The boys raced up the driveway, kicking up snow and gravel in their wake.

Owen drew Claire closer to him, one calloused hand resting at her hip and the other still holding Gray’s bag as they watched the brothers’ retreating backs.

“This was a good decision, right?” she turned to face him. “We did the right thing?”

Owen smiled, stole a quick, chaste kiss from her lips. “Of course,” he reassured her. “Just look at ‘em. They’re probably happier than they’ve been in weeks.”

“Good,” the red-head brightened, lacing her fingers with his, the heat from his hand warming her own chilly one.

“Shall we?” Owen nodded toward the house.

“Let’s,” Claire agreed.

The couple was making their way up to the house when Gray’s distressed scream startled them, both breaking into a full sprint up the walkway toward the open front door. Images flashed through Claire’s mind. All the possible scenarios she might find upon entering the house. A bear. A snake. A burglar. Knives or guns or blood or _teeth_ and _oh god why had she worn heeled boots?_ Of all her imagined horrors, she had not anticipated finding Zach on the ground laughing, a shaggy sheepdog pinning him to the floor and licking his face playfully as Gray stood stock still in the foyer. If her nephew hadn’t looked so terrified, it would have been comical.

“Blue, that’s enough!” Owen’s commanding voice rang out from the doorway. The dog looked up, hung her head and slowly backed away, allowing Zach to sit up and scratch her behind the ears. “Go on!” Owen commanded. “Get on outta here!” The sheepdog retreated out of the foyer and around the corner.

“You alright?” Owen helped Zach up.

“Yeah,” the teen replied.

Claire wrapped her arms around her younger nephew, trying to comfort him. “Sweetie, it’s okay. Blue’s just a puppy. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you but I forgot…”

“It’s okay,” Gray breathed, the tips of his ears glowing red but his eyes still fixed on the corner the dog had just vanished around.

“I’ll go put her downstairs,” Owen volunteered, following the dog’s path out of the room.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of dogs,” Claire said remorsefully.

“He wasn’t,” Zach interjected, picking up his duffel bag from where the dog had knocked it off his shoulder.  He left it at that. No one finished the thought, just as no one commented on the fact that the dog was named Blue.

* * *

 

If Gray and Zach were impressed by the exterior of the home, they were stunned by the upstairs, where Claire showed them to their rooms. There were four bedrooms upstairs. The first three and a bathroom were arranged along one side of the hallway opposite a railing that overlooked the great room downstairs. Light poured into the house from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room and the twin skylights in the vaulted ceilings. Rich cedar planks lined the upstairs hall, an earth brown runner leading the way to the master suite at the end of the hall.

“That one’s our office,” their aunt indicated the bedroom just off the stairs. Two desks were placed against opposite walls. One was piled high with books, papers, and boxes so that its wooden surface was almost completely buried. The other desk, a glass-topped surface on stainless steel legs, housed a laptop. Three Masrani Global folders were stacked neatly beside the computer, the top one labeled “Press Requests” in large, block letters. A desk organizer was perched in the top right corner of the desk and a calendar hung on the wall, marked in a rainbow of highlights and scrawled notes and Post-Its.

The three continued to the next room. “This one is Zach’s,” she said. The teen stepped over the threshold, letting his bag fall to the floor. The room was much bigger than the one he had at home. The faint odor of paint still hung in the air. The walls were a calming shade of green, the entire space airy and bright thanks to the light filtering in through the gauzy curtains that framed the enormous picture window. A queen-sized bed was arranged in the middle of the room, flanked by two oak nightstands and a matching dresser opposite them. A plush, burgundy carpet spanned one side of the bed to the other. Zach was almost in awe of the space, immediately more inviting than any room in his mother’s house. He was filled with visions of waking up there with snow on the ground, or in the summer to the sound of birds that would inevitably fill the branches of the woods.

“You like it?” Claire asked her nephew shyly.

The teen’s first instinct was to feign indifference but the look of hope on his aunt’s face immediately forced all pretense out of him. “It’s great!” he declared earnestly, a broad grin spreading across his features. She relaxed immediately.

“There’s towels in the closet,” she said. “And feel free to make yourself at home!” She continued down the hall to the next room. “And this one’s yours, Gray,” she presented the room like a flight attendant ushering passengers onboard.

The boy stepped carefully into the room. It was blue, like his other room, but the paint was fresher, newer. Navy curtains surrounded the window, equally as large and equally as bright as the one in Zach’s room. He inhaled. It didn’t smell like his other room. It smelled clean and fresh and _comfortable_. The smell of laundry detergent and laundered sheets and freshly vacuumed carpet hung in the air. The layout was identical to his brother’s—a queen bed in the center of the room, two nightstands, a dresser. The color scheme was altered to suit the wall color—a beige rug instead of a burgundy one and blue bedsheets as opposed to green. The room was like what home was _supposed_ to be like. Pleasant and calm with no sounds of angry shouting coming from downstairs.

“What do you think?” his aunt half-whispered, almost afraid to interrupt his thought process.

“I love it!” Gray answered whole-heartedly, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug. She kissed the top of his head affectionately.

“Looks like somebody likes his living arrangements,” Owen grinned from the doorway. He was almost caught off-guard when Gray threw himself at him, hugged him just as tightly as he had hugged Claire. “Looks like somebody likes his living arrangements a lot,” he amended.

* * *

 

The boys came downstairs to the great room once they had sufficiently unpacked for the weekend. They found Owen and Claire sitting in front of the fireplace, a fire going in the hearth, gently crackling and hissing. Their aunt was resting against Owen’s side, sipping coffee from a tall green mug and wrapped in a fleece blanket. The room smelled faintly smoky in a pleasant way. Not like that night. Not at all like that night. She looked up as they entered and smiled.

“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Claire asked.

Owen rolled his eyes good-naturedly before either Mitchell brother could respond. “There’s no _agenda_ , Ms. Dearing,” he insisted. “It’s a weekend vacation. How do you guys feel ‘bout snowboarding? Tyrol Basin is close.”

Zach’s eyes lit up and he exchanged a glance with Gray, who shrugged gamely. “I’ve never been snowboarding before,” the younger boy said.

“Then you’re in for a treat,” Owen rubbed his hands together, rising from the couch. “Get some snow pants on!”

“Don’t forget hats! And scarves! We have gloves if you need a pair!” Claire called after them as they rushed back up the stairs.

“You sound like your sister,” Owen ribbed, his hand finding a resting spot on her hip once more.

“You know, maybe that’s not such a bad thing sometimes. _Mr. Grady_.”

* * *

 

“How many?” The woman at the ticket window looked mildly disinterested as she took in the family of four in front of her.

“Four,” Claire responded, digging in her purse for her wallet.

“Skiing or snowboarding?”

“Snowboarding!” Zach answered automatically. Gray nodded in agreement, not wanting to be separated from his older brother.

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer skiing?” Claire asked. “Nice, safe, beginner skiing?”

“No way,” the teen replied.

“I guess we’re snowboarding then.”

“How old are your sons?” the woman questioned.

“Sixteen and eleven,” the red-head answered automatically, still rummaging until she found her credit card. Owen felt momentarily compelled to correct the saleswoman’s error but decided against it. Claire passed her card along to the ticket agent, who swiped it and handed them four passes. “Rental office is through there,” she pointed behind her. “Your pass doubles as a lift ticket and you get an hour with an instructor.”

The mountain didn’t look so high up from the ground, but once they rode the ski lift up it quickly became apparent that the slopes were much, much steeper than they appeared. Gray chewed his lower lip nervously as he watched what seemed like miles of hard-packed white powder streaking past his feet. The air got a little thinner, the cold turning his nose red. It had been alright with the instructor, who guided him through every step along a gentle slope. Zach had been eager to show off the snowboarding skills Gray knew he didn’t have and ended up face-planting the first few times, much to the younger brother’s amusement. But in the end he seemed to have taken to it better than Gray had. And now they were riding the ski lift all the way to the top of the mountain—or at least the top of the bunny hill which felt no less steep—and he felt very nervous all of a sudden.

Zach seemed to pick up on his brother’s tenseness. “You okay?” he nudged the boy gently. Gray nodded mutely. “You’ll be fine!” the teen tried to encourage him. “You’re a natural. C’mon.” The top of the mountain was in sight. “Count of three we get off the lift. One,” Gray shut his eyes. “Two.” He bent his knees, tensed like he was ready to jump for his life. “Three!” He slid smoothly off the ski lift and onto the slippery snow, almost losing his footing. His older brother caught him, guiding him into a full standing position so that he could plant one foot on the ground for traction. Claire and Owen disembarked the ski lift right behind them.

“First run,” Owen declared. “Ready?”

Zach and Gray had been just as surprised as Claire to learn that Owen had actually gone snowboarding before. “I didn’t know they had snowboarding in the south,” the woman had teased. “Or the navy.” He accepted the taunts in good humor, elaborating on a weeklong trip to Colorado he had once taken. Claire, of course, assumed this meant he was exaggerating, that he was rusty at best and hopeless at worst, nudging her nephews playfully and telling them to prepare for a wipeout of epic proportions. What followed was actually, in the instructor’s words, “pretty good form for a beginner.” He wasn’t the most graceful boarder on the slopes by a mile but if this was Owen’s version of rusty then Claire couldn’t even begin to imagine the skill he had at his peak. It was either muscle memory or natural talent and with the amount of hero worship her nephews heaped on him, Claire couldn’t help but feel like she was dating a minor celebrity. Technically speaking, she was dating a minor celebrity. Technically she herself was a minor celebrity for all the wrong reasons.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Claire declared shakily, staring down the straight slope in front of her and feeling skittish. She looked to her nephews. Zach was helping Gray strap into his board. She noted the look of trepidation on the younger boy’s face and swallowed hard, realizing she was going to have to do this if she wanted him to even try. Owen offered her a gloved hand and arched his eyebrow flirtatiously. Her heart was pounding. Claire Dearing could stare down an entire boardroom of Masrani execs, could fearlessly take on a room full of flashing cameras and shouting reporters, could dazzle investors worth literally billions of dollars, could bait a freaking tyrannosaurus rex with nothing but a flare, but she could _not_ do heights. She hated working on the upper floors of skyscraping office buildings, couldn’t stand observation decks on tall monuments, despised helicopter rides. And she most definitely did _not_ want to be running down the side of a mountain with nothing but a slick, fiberglass board under her feet to keep her upright.

“Ready, guys?” she turned to Zach and Gray, smiled to mask her own uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” Gray hesitated. Her face fell. They brought the boys here to have fun and dammit she wasn’t about to let fear ruin what might be their last chance to spend time together for a while. It was now or never. She seized Owen’s hand, nodding in an attempt to convince the both of them that she was _not_ freaking out right now.

“Here we go!” Owen let out an enthused cry as he leaned forward, gravity doing the work. Claire tried to hold in a scream and her stomach as he pulled her along. The wind whipped past her face, snow kicked up into her goggles and there was such a _rush_ as they glided along that she couldn’t contain the laughter that escaped her. This was _fun_. No paperwork. No moody board of directors. No prying journalists or creepy stalkers or angry activists. Just wind and snow and laughter and Owen holding her hand as they reached the bottom of the run.

“See?” Zach pointed to Owen and Claire at the bottom of the mountain, their puffy and parka-clad forms looking small from so high up. “Aunt Claire can do it. So can you!”

Gray shrunk away. “Maybe I should just watch.”

Zach shook his head, wet his chapped lips as he tried to think of a new idea. “Okay, how about if I go and when I get halfway down the slope I’ll stop and you can come to me?”

Gray still looked uncertain.

“You trust me right?” Zach tried again. Gray nodded. “I’m gonna go. And halfway through I’m gonna stop and you gotta come down to me, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy finally answered.

Zach grinned, adjusted his cap and put the goggles back on, leaning forward. The board began to move slowly at first, like the first drop on a rollercoaster. He started picking up speed. The wind whistled in his ears, blew his scarf back. He shifted his stance, turned left, then right in an s-pattern. It felt freeing, his body hurtling down the mountain faster than any negative thoughts he had been carrying. The laugh was genuine and he was giddy as the bottom of the slope began to rush up toward him faster and faster and he had to remind himself to stop. That Gray was still waiting at the top and he wasn’t going to get down this mountain if he didn’t force him. So he turned the board horizontal and went up on his toes, bringing the snowboard to a halt and unstrapping one foot. He turned to face his brother, looking much, much smaller from the top of the mountain. “You coming or what?” he called.

Gray hesitated and for a moment Zach thought he wasn’t going to go through with it. The younger Mitchell steeled himself, shut his eyes, reminded himself that it was fine. That jumping was fine. Zach was there. Zach would catch him. He wasn’t in any danger. There wasn’t some monstrous dinosaur coming after him this time. And before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself sliding down the slope and picking up speed much faster than he intended. He wiped out about a quarter of the way down. Zach witnessed his brother’s fall and fought down panic as he battled against the incline to try to reach him, scrambling on hands and knees.

From the bottom of the slope, Claire’s hands flew to her mouth. _Oh god why did I go down first I should have made them go before me so I could help them if this happened how the hell do I get up there oh god is he okay_. She breathed a sigh of relief as Zach reached him, helped him sit up and he seemed no worse for wear.

“Kid’s tough,” Owen tried to reassure her. “He’s okay.”

“You’re almost there,” Zach hoisted his little brother to his feet. “Just gotta work on your control. If you think you’re gonna fall, turn the board sideways and tiptoe. You’ll slow down.” Gray nodded, shaken from the speed and force with which he contacted the icy hillside. His wrist was a little sore but he shook it off.

“Ready to go again?” Zach grinned at him. “I’ve got you the whole way this time, okay?” He offered his hand to the boy unashamedly. And so Gray grabbed onto his brother’s arm and let the teen drag him down the rest of the way. And he let him drag him back up the ski lift to do it again and again until finally even he had to admit it was fun.

There were plenty of other people on the mountaintop but with their winter coats and scarves and goggles and hats, none of the family was recognizable to the public. And for once neither Zach nor Gray was being approached constantly, asked _dude what was it like? I bet it was sick_ and being expected to talk about the trauma they witnessed like it was somehow the most awesome thing they’d ever seen. No one expected them to regale them with some harrowing story of near-death. No one was pressuring them to relive the experience in full, graphic detail. There were no divorce attorneys or movers or realtors or counselors around. No shouting or screaming or slamming doors. No journalists were shoving a camera or a mic in Claire or Owen’s face, demanding a comment or asking what Masrani Global’s next steps were or what would happen to the dinosaurs. And for one afternoon, they were able to just be a normal family. As normal as they could get anyway.

* * *

 

It was well after nine and close to closing time when they finally returned the snowboards and boots and piled into the car again puffy, wet, sore, and exhausted but utterly content. Owen was driving this time, Claire’s arms too tired from constantly catching herself every time she wiped out. She sank into the passenger seat, pushed the button to activate the seat heaters and brushed strands of sopping wet hair from her eyes. She let out a puff of breath, felt her nose dripping a little.

“That was fun!” she declared. “What’d you boys think?”

“That was awesome!” Gray declared. His arms, legs, butt, everything ached in a dull way but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He smacked Zach’s arm. “Dude, you wiped out way more than I did!”

“Only cuz I had to hold your hand the whole time,” he taunted back.

“Nuh-uh,” Gray protested.

“Alright, alright, I dunno ‘bout you guys but I’m _starving_ ,” Owen interrupted, steering the car around a slight bend in the road, the headlights reflecting off the yellow warning sign and the reflectors on the railing.

“Oh, food sounds so good right now,” Claire agreed, prying off one boot to rub her sore foot through her wet sock.

“I could eat,” Zach concurred.

“There’s really not much around,” his aunt pointed out, still massaging her foot, finger and thumb working in small circles. “At least not anything open. We’ll have to figure something out at home.”

“Don’t worry guys, we got plenty of stuff at home,” her boyfriend assured the group.

The pantry was the size of a small walk-in closet, shelves stacked neatly on either side and against the back wall, stocked with more food than was reasonably necessary for two people and a dog. Cans of Campbell’s, Chef Boyardee, boxes of cereal, canned peaches and green beans and corn. Gray had never seen so much food. Their mom kept the kitchen stocked with the necessities—eggs, milk, bread, and enough food for the week with possibly a little extra for emergencies. But Owen and Claire’s pantry was a veritable treasure trove of nonperishables and Claire assured them there was plenty more to eat in the fridge.

“So what do you guys feel like having?” Owen questioned as the four gathered around the granite-topped island in the center of the kitchen, easily two times larger than the one in their mother’s house. He opened one of the cabinets, already surveying the pots and pans.

“Waffles!” Gray requested. “We should have waffles.” Both Claire and Zach glanced at him in surprise, a slow smirk spreading across Zach’s face.

“Waffles?” their aunt questioned. “It’s ten thirty!” The warmth in her eyes suggested amusement rather than confusion.

“Nothing wrong with a little breakfast for dinner,” Owen concurred with the boy, rummaging in a cabinet beneath the island for the waffle iron.

“Well if we’re having waffles, we’re going to _have_ to make French toast to go with it,” Claire decided, a sly grin breaking out across her face, half-expecting Owen to strike the idea down.

“And pancakes too,” Gray added.

“Scrambled eggs?” Zach suggested, playing along.

“And bacon!” Owen finished. “Wouldn’t be breakfast without bacon.”

It was eleven thirty by the time they actually sat down to enjoy their veritable feast, the whole house smelling of fried bacon and the kitchen sink stacked high with pots, pans, spoons, spatulas, whisks—all dripping batter—and they told themselves they would worry about the mess in the morning, that right now they were too tired and too hungry to deal with it. Claire watched as her nephews tucked into their portions, demonstrating appetites that only Owen could challenge. The whole house felt alive in ways she didn’t even know it could. Maybe it was the laughter—Owen was currently recounting the house-hunting horror stories they had endured before settling here—or the fact that they had never used the formal dining room for anything until now, or the fact that until tonight, “family dinner” was the same thing as dinner for two. Whatever it was, the level of energy in the house invigorated her, forced all thoughts of Monday and depositions and subpoenas and legal documents from her mind as she watched Zach, Gray, and Owen’s animated faces. The house had been home for her since the moment they moved in, but she hadn’t fully realized what _home_ could feel like until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This concludes chapter two! One to go and that should be up soon enough, too! Thanks for reading! You guys are way too awesome! I love hearing from you all, so any reviews and feedback are much appreciated! You rock!


	3. This Is Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thank you all SO, SO MUCH for your thoughtful reviews and amazing support! I hope you’ll follow me as I continue with this fandom and continue to fill prompts (and maybe play around with some ideas of my own). I’m flattered by the positive reception and I hope I can continue to please! Let me know what you think and don’t forget to send any prompts you might have!  
> Edited to change the setting to Madison, Wisconsin because I initially couldn't remember where the boys are from.

“I’m still so sore,” Claire whined playfully, sitting on the end of the bed clad in gray sweatpants and a lacy white pajama top. She rubbed at her left foot, working over her aching tendons with her thumb and forefinger.

“Let me help you with that,” Owen emerged from the bathroom, teeth freshly brushed and hair still damp from the shower. He grinned flirtatiously as he took up a place beside her, gently replacing her delicate hand with his larger, firmer one and beginning to knead and rub the soles of her feet. Claire hissed sharply, eyes fluttering shut and she let out a faint mewl of appreciation as he worked the tension out of her aching extremities.

“Did they teach you how to do that in the Navy, too?” she asked jokingly between sharp intakes of breath, reclining on the bed as he continued his ministrations.

“Nope. This is something I figured out all on my own,” he laughed.

Claire pulled away coquettishly. “Apparently you haven’t figured out any non-cheesy ways to flirt though.”

Owen threw his hands up in the air tauntingly. “If you want me to stop…”

“No, no,” she pulled his hands back toward her. “Stick to what you’re good at,” she giggled.

* * *

 

The TV was mostly just background noise for both of them, turned on while she brushed her hair and applied moisturizer to her face and Owen waited patiently in bed for her.

“It was the right move, bringing them here for the weekend,” she declared, flopping down beside him. He pulled her closer and she snuggled into his side, pulling the blanket up over the both of them. There was an old, faded war flick on. He turned the volume even lower. Her eyes passed over the screen but didn’t process anything beyond the pale glow that illuminated both her and Owen’s faces.

Owen pressed a kiss to her cheek, inhaled the faint, flowery scent of her shampoo. “Hate to say I told you so,” he gloated playfully.  

“It’s just been so long since we’ve had a real, good day, you know? I texted Karen some pictures of the boys on the slopes and she told me it’s the first time she’s seem them genuinely smiling in weeks. And who knows when we’ll have this again with all the legal proceedings starting Monday. Neela sent me five emails so far. I haven’t opened any of them…”

Owen sensed the tension starting to course through every fiber of her being and decided to interrupt it with by pressing a kiss to her lips. She tensed up at first in surprise but quickly melted into the contact as soon as it registered. He pulled away well before she was ready. “We may still be at home but as far as I’m concerned we’re on vacation. And there’s no work allowed on vacation,” he scolded her with mock severity.

“Force of habit,” she pouted teasingly.

“Just think,” Owen took on a more wistful tone. “Couple of months from now this mess’ll be behind us and it’ll be summer…We can barbecue. Pitch a tent. Have the boys over. We’ll get that hammock you wanted and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.”

“Except when I go to work every morning and remember who my employer is…”

“So quit! You don’t have to stay if working at Masrani is gonna make you miserable.”

Claire snorted. “After all the attention this has gotten me? Where would I go?”

“Anywhere you want!” Owen insisted. “The university’s gonna pay me well. We’ll make it.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about work,” she said, playfully redirecting the conversation.

“That’s right,” he agreed. “So what should we talk about?”

She rolled over completely so that she was straddling him. “I was thinking we could do a little less talking,” she teased, delicate fingers slowly tracing circles on his chest over his shirt.

He quirked a brow. “I thought you were sore?” he questioned cheekily, hands finding their way to her hips, slowly pulling down the waistband of her pants in a way that still made her blush.

“What can I say, Mr. Grady? You have a magic touch.”

* * *

 

It was well past two AM and Claire was fully aware of the fact that she should be asleep. Instead she was reclining against Owen, listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, feeling the even rise and fall of his bare chest against her still-flushed cheek. Work had been keeping her up these past few weeks but the dilemma had always had to do with fulfilling her responsibilities. It had never been about questioning her career altogether.

Work had been her life for so long that the idea of leaving it seemed both foreign and frightening. Even after all that had happened. She had stayed at Masrani Global, accepted the new title and role of Executive Director of Corporate Operations despite the notoriety the company had gained and its uncertain financial future.

She had, however, refused to move to San Diego, wanted to stay close to family, to appease both her sister and her mother, neither of whom would ever forgive her if, after all that had happened, she decided to settle across the country. So she dragged Owen back to the Midwest, managed to convince Masrani Global that she could be just as valuable and productive working remotely from home, that in ways it was a better arrangement because the last thing corporate headquarters needed was yet _another_ reason for angry picketers to stand outside the lobby.

They moved into this house in the middle of the woods to satisfy Owen’s desire for tranquility but the fact remained that Owen had uprooted his life, come here, accepted Wisconsin-Madison’s offer to join their zoology staff under the impression that this place was home for the long haul. All because of her work. No. She was going to work. She was going to weather this storm like she had weathered every other and when Masrani emerged on the other side, maybe her loyalty would be rewarded. At the very least, she wasn’t about to give this up no matter how many times she wanted to shred every last media inquiry, every last subpoena, every last legal document that kept her wrapped up in this disaster.

And with that settled, she rolled over in bed, pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. The house was silent save for Owen’s gentle snores and Blue’s occasional twitching from her place on the floor by the foot of the bed. Owen had released the dog as soon as Gray had gone up to bed. The woman was just beginning to nod off when she heard a short, sharp cry that made her sit bolt upright. The dog stood up, tilted her head to one side and eyed her curiously. There were footsteps in the hall, coming toward her room, and Claire was out of bed in a second, pulling her fleece robe tight about her. Owen stirred but didn’t wake up. The creaking floorboards ended abruptly at Gray’s room and she knew, tiptoeing toward the door so as not to disturb her sleeping boyfriend. She opened the bedroom door slowly and crept out into the hall. Gray’s door was ajar and Zach’s wide open, confirming her suspicions. She entered the room softly but swiftly and saw Zach sitting on the edge of Gray’s bed trying to comfort him. They locked eyes and she stopped, silently entreating permission to trespass into the space. Her nephew nodded as if to affirm she could stay.

The night terrors had been such a common occurrence post-Jurassic World that by now, Zach automatically woke up between two and three to check on his little brother. More often than not, he would find the boy tossing, turning, whimpering. Or Gray’s screaming would send him running. Tonight had been one of the worst in a while. He found the boy rolling over and over in bed, screaming “Zach” or “Aunt Claire,” the same cries that had brought their aunt rushing into the room.

Gray was half asleep, clutching at the bedsheets until Zach climbed onto the bed and gently rolled the boy toward him, at which point Gray instinctively clutched at his brother’s shirt instead.

“Shhh,” the elder brother soothed, brushing Gray’s sleep-mussed hair from his face and holding him close, rocking him back and forth as if her were lulling an infant. “I’m right here, Gray. I’ve got you.” The boy squirmed in Zach’s arms for a bit as the residual fear of the nightmare subsided and between the gentle rocking and Zach’s soothing murmurs, he was soon pacified. His breathing became deeper and less ragged as he slowly returned to slumber. Claire timidly laid a hand on Gray’s shoulder like she was afraid he would shatter if she applied too much pressure. He didn’t so much as stir. They stayed there like that—the three of them—for a long while until Zach was sure his brother was fully asleep once more. He gently lowered Gray back onto the mattress, tugging the covers up over him once more.

Claire smiled at her older nephew and motioned for him to follow her into the hallway. He followed with once last glance behind him to make sure Gray was alright.

“Gray’s really lucky,” she told him in a hushed voice, barely able to make out his tall form in the dim hall, illuminated only by the half-moon filtering in through the windows and skylight. “To have a big brother who’s always watching out for him.”

Zach tried to deflect it. “He’s been through a lot. Any brother would—“

“No,” Claire shook her head. “No, not any brother. A _good_ brother, Zach. A really good brother. And I’m proud of you. Don’t tell her I told you, but your mom said the only thing that’s kept her sane through all of this is knowing that Gray has you to keep him safe when she’s not around. She says you’re his guardian angel.”

“He needs me,” the teen answered as if it were really that simple. “And I need him. We’re brothers. I’m not gonna let him down.” Gray had had enough let-downs in his short life. And Zach knew that before Isla Nublar, he probably wouldn’t have cared. But the truth was, they really did need each other.

His aunt hugged him tightly and from the way she sniffled he could tell she was trying desperately not to cry. “Keep looking out for him,” she admonished, eyes glassy.

“I promise,” Zach affirmed, turning back toward the room he was sleeping in but stopping short. “Actually, I think I’m gonna…you know,” he jerked a thumb in the direction of Gray’s door, “sleep in there tonight.”

Claire nodded, smiled to herself as she slowly turned around and returned to her bed, to Owen, clambered in beside him. He instinctively edged closer to her in his sleep and she allowed his arms to envelop her as she shut her eyes.

* * *

 

A sudden clattering downstairs shook Claire from sleep. Owen rolled over beside her.

“Honey, the kids are up,” he chuckled.

Claire’s bleary eyes found the alarm clock on her nightstand, the blocky red digits reading 9:14. “Too early,” she murmured.

“They’re _your_ kids,” Owen teased, pawing at her arm childishly.

“They like you better,” she shot back.

“That’s not true,” he answered and this time his tone was completely serious. “They love you.” There was a pause, then he added, “and I love you,” stealing a quick kiss from her lips that made her grin. Another clattering sound, this time accompanied by a sharp yelp, cut the moment short.

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” she slowly rose from the mattress, swinging her bare feet over the side of the bedframe and pulling her robe tight about her, cinching it at the waist as she padded down the stairs.

Gray was standing wide-eyed and stock still by the kitchen sink, water all over the counter and some on the floor as well. The faucet was still running. Claire’s eyes darted from her nephew to the dog that was curiously sniffing and nuzzling his leg. She had to put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile.

“Blue, c’mon,” she called the dog. Blue peered at the woman through the shaggy fur that shielded her eyes from view. The canine sat by the boy’s feet, tail thumping against the wood floor and tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Blue,” Claire put her hands on her hips and tried to do her best Owen impersonation. “Let’s go. Leave poor Gray alone.”

Gray eyed the dog cautiously and swore the animal was smiling at him. “N-no. It’s okay,” he said bravely. “B-blue can stay.” The dog began sniffing at his ankle, her wet nose slipping under his pant leg and simultaneously making him flinch and laugh.

“Okay,” his aunt laughed, shutting the tap off. “If you’re alright with it then I guess Blue can stay. I think she likes you.” The woman crossed the kitchen and tore a paper towel off the roll, wiping at the soaked countertop.

“I was trying to wash the dishes,” he said simply by way of apology.

Claire smiled appreciatively, hugged him around the shoulders to avoid the enormous water spot on the front of his shirt. “That was very sweet of you, baby,” she said. “But I can take it from here.” She picked up a half-scrubbed whisk, batter caked on it from the previous night’s breakfast-for-dinner that she was still full from. “Where’s your brother?” she asked.

“Still sleeping,” Gray shrugged, taking a seat on a barstool. Blue hopped up on her hind legs, just barely able to reach the boy who, though still wary, was more receptive to her antics.

“Then it looks like it’s just us,” she said, stuffing the last of the plates into the dishwasher, having quickly grown overwhelmed with the hand-washing. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Gray shrugged, gingerly patting Blue on her head, causing the dog to redouble her efforts for attention.

“I have an idea,” his aunt suggested, a sly smirk spreading across her lips. “Since we had breakfast for dinner last night, why don’t we have dinner for breakfast?”

“Dinner for breakfast?” Gray cocked his head to one side.

“Uh-huh,” Claire opened the massive freezer and began rummaging around inside until she found what she was looking for, drawing out two boxes of frozen pizza. “I would order in but I know for a fact there are no pizza places open this early. Guess frozen will have to do.”

“Pizza for breakfast?” the boy’s eyes lit up. “Mom would never let us have pizza for breakfast!”

Claire looked him dead in the eye. “And _that_ is why you can’t tell her. _Ever_ ,” she said with mock severity, turning to pre-heat the oven. “Now who do you think will come down first when they smell food? Zach or Owen?”

* * *

 

“Why did no one think of this before?” Zach exalted, as if pizza for breakfast were the pinnacle of human achievement.

“Just wait till you get to college,” Owen deadpanned. “No better cure for a hangover.” Claire swatted his arm lightly with her free hand, sending crumbs cascading down to the floor. She was surprised when Blue didn’t leap at the fallen morsels, opting instead to sit at Gray’s feet by the couch. The boy dropped a piece of pepperoni for her every so often, which seemed to solidify the canine’s affection.

“So what should we do today, guys?” Claire asked between bites, relishing the greasiness and saltiness and the stringiness of the cheese and the sauce dripping into her palm, threatening to stain her pants. She had been good about avoiding junk food but this momentary lapse in self-discipline was so rewarding.

“It’s our last day,” Gray said glumly, the realization dawning on him. His aunt winced. They had been having so much fun. And now it was Sunday. The weekend felt too short and she wished she could’ve had them for the week. Not that they would’ve been able to spend much time together with the storm she was about to walk into tomorrow. She exchanged a glance with Owen, glanced at Zach who had become very quiet, frowning into the holes and bumps in his pizza crust. Gray was resting his head in one hand, eyes searching the pattern of the wood floor. The mood in the room had plummeted.

Owen finished his slice and clapped his hands together. “Alright, guys, it might be our last day but we’ve still got a couple hours left! There’s a pond out back just past the wall. Totally frozen over. We can go ice skating. What d’ya say?”

Claire latched onto the idea, grateful her partner had thought of something. “I think that’s a great idea!” she said brightly, standing up and brushing the remaining crumbs from her body. Blue rose, paced circles around her, making sure to get every last piece and then returning to her previous place by the couch.

“We don’t have any skates,” Zach pointed out.

“Like we didn’t think of that?” Owen laughed. “We thought of everything when we bought the place. We gotcha covered.”

* * *

 

The wind whipped up flakes of snow, blowing it stingingly against their faces as they approached the pond, skates in hand. Claire had been right about the boys’ shoe sizes, remembering them from when she had to buy them new ones in San Jose immediately after the Isla Nublar incident. Owen was amazed when he considered that two months ago she couldn’t even remember their ages. They paused to lace the skates to their feet at the pond’s edge. The boys rose to their feet as Owen helped Claire stand. Zach took in the sight of the shallow, frozen body of water and hesitated.

“Nothing to worry about,” Owen assured him. “Went out there myself earlier just to make sure. Frozen solid.”

“That’s not it,” Zach shook his head, stopping short in a shin-deep snow drift. Three pairs of eyes were fixed curiously on him and he could feel the tips of his ears burning bright red despite the cold.

 _You’re sixteen. Don’t be a baby_.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Claire asked but the teen remained frozen for a moment, swallowing hard.

He felt ashamed, like he was letting his aunt, Owen, _Gray_ down. He didn’t want to admit that the pond reminded him a little _too_ much of the Mosasaurus enclosure. Even if they knew, he was sure none of them would react the same way.

Claire and Owen had arrived on Main Street too late to witness what he had witnessed. And Gray had kept his head down, too wrapped up in escaping the pteranodons to see Zara being carried off, screaming as she was dropped to her death in that awful tank. They didn’t know that his nightmares consisted of that moment, of all the moments in which he failed to rescue someone. Or he almost failed. They didn’t know that he could still hear Zara’s desperate cries. And while Claire had been devastated when she learned of her assistant’s untimely death (“it’s my fault” and “she was getting married” repeated like a mantra as she sobbed and fell to her knees as Owen cradled her in his arms), only Zach had _seen_ her die. And it wasn’t Claire’s fault. _He_ had been the one to convince Gray to make a break for it. _He_ had been the one who forced Zara to go looking for them. If they had just stuck with her, she would probably have gotten them all to safety before the pterosaur attack. She would probably still be alive. But he couldn’t bring himself to explain all of that right here and right now, so he just froze and stared and fought down the panic, the manic heartbeat, the shallow breaths that would cause him to hyperventilate if he let them.

Gray slipped his gloved right hand into his older brother’s left, gripping it firmly. “Do you trust me?” the boy whispered. Zach appeared startled for a moment, then slowly nodded. His aunt reached for his right hand, squeezed it, locked eyes with Gray as Owen took hold of her free hand and slowly the chain of four stepped out onto the icy pond.

Zach kept his eyes fixed on the ice and tried to convince himself that yes, he could do this. It was just ice skating. Nothing was going to emerge from the depths of the frozen water. Nothing was going to get him. He was tense during the first circuit of the pond, allowing Gray, Aunt Claire, and Owen to pull him along like he had done for Gray the previous day on the mountain. But by the second pass, his heart rate had started to come down and he shut his eyes, let himself feel the cold wind blowing against his face and it almost felt enjoyable. The first snowflake hit his nose—a chilly tingle that quickly faded and when he looked up, there were downy white flakes drifting down toward him.

It was that exact moment that Owen lost his balance and flopped onto the ice with a surprised cry, hand still connected to Claire’s and starting a domino effect. Claire went down, causing Zach to lose his balance and he dragged Gray after him, skidding a few feet on the slick surface. By the time he came to a stop and realized he wasn’t hurt, everyone was in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. The snow coated their parkas, hats, hair, eyelashes and the seats of their pants soaked from the ice. Zach wished there was a way to just stay in that moment, in that _feeling_ forever.

* * *

 

Owen set the steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the island in front of Claire and the boys, who were rubbing their numb hands together in an attempt to warm some feeling back into them.

“Hot cocoa,” he said, eyeing the piping hot beverages with satisfaction. “Ancient Grady family recipe.”

“Really?” Claire arched a brow dubiously as she wrapped both hands around the mug.

“No,” Owen shook his head with a mischievous grin. “It’s just Swiss Miss with whipped cream on top.”

She took a sip, coming away with some of said whipped cream on the tip of her nose and Owen stifled a laugh as he used the pad of his thumb to swipe the offending topping away.

“Not bad for hot chocolate that came out of a packet,” she teased, watching as Zach sipped from his mug and Gray downed the sweet drink, coming away with a whipped cream mustache and an impish grin that nearly made his older brother choke.

* * *

 

It was inevitable. All four told themselves it was inevitable as Owen chucked the bags in the trunk, as they climbed into the car, as Owen backed it out of the driveway, as they left the house behind. They had been having so much fun that they hadn’t thought about what would happen after. But as the house, the street, the woods retreated behind them and Owen merged the car onto the highway, it became increasingly apparent—and painful—that all good things had to come to an end. Zach and Gray were silent in the backseat, each brother staring blankly out the windows.

“Did you have fun?” Claire asked, more out of a need to make conversation than anything else. It was too quiet and she couldn’t stand the silence. The silence only made her think about the week to come, about how much better things would be if every day could be identical to this past weekend.

“Yeah,” Zach answered without much enthusiasm.

Gray’s shoulders slumped forward. “I don’t wanna go back,” he said. “I wanna stay with you guys! It’s close enough. I can still go to school!”

“I know, kiddo,” his aunt answered sympathetically. “But you guys are always welcome to come visit!”

 She couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him, to be knowingly returning to a house that would feel so much emptier than before. Frankly, she would have been terrified were she in his position. She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to go back, for preferring a place that felt fuller, for lack of a better term. She didn’t know much about her sister’s personal life, about how she kept her house, but even she had picked up on the deflated energy about the house from the moment she walked in. Scott may not have been around much for his sons, but he was still their dad. And losing his presence in the home had to hurt for the boys.

“And there’s summer break,” Owen suggested brightly. The silence, the sadness was killing him. He hated to see his family like this. And Zach and Gray and Claire _were_ his family. No matter what. “You guys can come stay with us. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

Claire tried to make small talk the rest of the way home, drawing out monosyllabic responses from Zach and sad peeps from Gray. By the time they pulled up in her sister’s driveway, her eyes were glassy.

The house _felt_ empty, the weight of a failed marriage and a missing occupant palpable. Karen opened the door even before they had made their way up the front walk. She put on the sunniest expression she could muster as she greeted her sons, hugged each in turn, then did the same to her sister and her…well, he wasn’t really a brother-in-law but she always referred to Owen as such whenever he came up in conversation.

“How were they?” Karen asked once she had persuaded Claire and Owen to at least come inside and coaxed them out of their coats.

“Great,” Claire answered earnestly. “We’d love to have them back.”

Karen had aged. That was the first thing Claire noticed. Her hair was graying at the roots, deep-set bags and wrinkles forming on her face. She looked tired. Drained.

“How did it go?” she questioned, careful not to mention the word _divorce_. The truth was that she had never minded Scott the few times she met him in person. He was busy, a little cold, but he never seemed like a bad guy. Or a bad father, really. It wasn’t until Karen had told her of the divorce, of how Scott was always too wrapped up in work to pay attention to his kids, to her—it wasn’t until he had broken her sister’s heart that Claire started to hate him.

“As well as could be expected,” Karen responded. Zach ascended the stairs to his room, not wanting to hear anymore. Gray soon followed. “He finished moving out this morning. It was a clean break.” There was still a thinly-disguised note of pain in her voice and Claire decided she wouldn’t ask for more details.

“We should go,” Owen rose from the couch, not wanting to overstay their welcome. Claire stood with him.

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Karen pleaded.

“We shouldn’t,” her sister answered. “The boys have school, we all have work…”

“Please,” Karen reached out, held her sister’s wrist gently and Claire understood why. “I made chili. Too much for just three of us.”

“Okay,” the younger sister answered with a smile.

They were a family of five for the evening, gathered around the dining room table and talking and laughing. Gray was excitedly recalling their snowboarding adventures, face animated with delight and Zach’s eyes lit up as he added his own details and Karen was positively _glowing_. And that was when it clicked. For Claire. For Owen. For Zach. For Gray. For Karen, who had spent the last two nights alone. _This_ was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The end! Sorry if the ending was a little more depressing than what you expected but I tried to end on a more hopeful note. I hope you guys enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing! I loved hearing your feedback and you all ROCK! Thank you SO, SO much for your support. I really do love this piece and I’ve got plenty more Jurassic World planned so stay tuned! Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hope you liked the first part! I’ll post the next chapter soon. This is going to be a very short (like three chapters tops) multichapter fic just because I think the storyline is better broken up that way. Please let me know what you thought of chapter one and, if you’re eager to read the rest, click follow so you can be updated when I post the next one!


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